Butterfly Kisses
by Justanothersinger
Summary: There's nothing left. Nothing left for him. He's trapped in this cage, he's thrown away his key. There was nothing left for him...so why was he still alive? Sequel to Dirty Talk. Crossposted on tumblr as heart-machine-drama-queen.


**I regret absolutely everything**

**Including the time i took to write this and the times complete strangers saw me writing gay porn in the bus. eh well**

**please enjo**y

**Trigger Warnings: Suicide mention, self-harm, gore, dub/noncon**

Butterfly Kisses

A Kagerou Project Fanfiction

It's dark when he wakes.

His mouth is dry, his throat like sandpaper. His skin is bare and feels ice-cold under the warmth of the arm draped lazily around his waist. When he moves, he feels a face buried in his neck, breathing softly, lips just barely touching his skin.  
His legs press together in discomfort as the urge to go to the bathroom makes itself known and carefully moves out from under him, his breath stopped, body on auto-pilot.

For someone trapped in a cage, he's gotten pretty good at slipping away from him.

He can't escape, though. Not when he's the one who threw his own key away.

His knees buckle as he attempts to stand up and he catches himself on the wall just before he tips over, gritting his teeth at the pain that shoots up his back and the fatigue in his legs, but somehow he manages to pull himself up and make his way to the toilet, grabbing some clothes along the way.

Even now, he can still feel the damp, warm breath, the prick of impossibly sharp fangs, the way he sucked and bit on his skin, hard, hard enough to draw little drops of blood.  
His stomach churns as the recollections start to take shape, memories sewn together that unearth the more frantically hidden, ones that he can never remember.

_...It's cold._

His hands are even colder. Maybe he should take a shower.

It's not like he can go back to sleep now.

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Each word that Kuroha speaks is a new link in the heavy chains that tie him down.

Every order, every breath ties him down to this harsh, cold reality.  
"Show me." The words are loud and he can hear them echo from the ear pressed against the softness of fabric, echoing in his body, as if a testament to the emptiness in him.

His breathing is harsh, his face is on fire. It streams to his neck and down to his heart as he complies, spreading his knees further apart. No matter how many times he's done this, the dread slows his movements, the embarrassment makes him shiver.  
_That's good._

He feels cold metal trail down his thigh as Kuroha clicks his tongue, "Don't hold in those noises, Shintaro-kun. I want to hear you."

"Nnh..." He tries to fight against the instinct to bite down on his lip. He musn't disobey.

The fingers that touch his cock are his own, as are the ones inside him, exposing him to hungry eyes. Wet, disgusting sounds of skin rubbing against cold, lubricated skin underline the obscenity of him, the sight of him, even as his moans start to pick up in volume.  
Keep looking at him. It was taking all he had to keep that thought in his head, not to give in to embarrassment and fear.

Bright, yellow eyes hold his own even as Kuroha trails the gun down his leg, a gun that was loaded, made Shintaro see him load.

His face is pressed into the mattress and he tries to focus his efforts into trying to balance himself, willing himself not to fall over.

With extreme ease, he takes in a shaky breath and finally shuts off his mind and lets the pleasure take over, pushing down the uneasiness, the fear with practiced swiftness.

He should not hesitate.

He should not disobey.

"You're close, aren't you?" Shintaro's hips buckle as he feels a hand wrap around his cock, stroking him with practiced motions and nimble fingers that make him ache for more. "But no. Not yet."

He whines and the sound is loud in the stuffy silence. It's so difficult for him to breathe now, and he's half-tempted to give up on it entirely. But even now, even now, his chest would heave, his mouth would open and he would suck in a breath of cursed air.

He inhales sharply when he feels Kuroha's hands on his body again. First on his back, then wandering to his ass. His heart stops entirely when he feels cold lips press themselves on the nape of his neck.

He's trapped in this.

He's locked his own cage.

Kuroha is poison.

A poison that leaves him bruised, leaves him broken, he steals the breath from his body.

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Static and cool air that rushed over his skin, lulling him to a sleep that would never come.

He pulls at his sleeves and they brush against the cuts on his arm, bleeding red on the fabric.

_I have to keep it inside before he comes home._

But the knife handle stays balanced precariously in his fingers.

It's getting darker. From the corner of his eye, he can see the dying orange of the setting sun.

_He's late. _

He's expected this but...

Absentmindedly, he touches the bruises under his eyes. Blue and red littering his neck and greenish-yellow under his cast.

And he would forget. Of course he would.

Along the surface of the mirror, his eyes follow a long crack. A crack that trails off to the side and cuts across his face.

He would definitely forget.

Time and again, he'd proved his selfishness.

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_I was selfish._

_It's because I was selfish that I'm here right now. _

_"I actually think it's good to be selfish sometimes."_

Why would it be good? It had never done me any favors and it's all I've been for the last 18 years.

_"You're a lot of things, Shintaro. You were never selfish."_

Liar.

But what reason would you have to lie?

_"I don't. Do I?"_

He never did know what she was thinking. It was hard for him to trust her.

Even now, he still doesn't know why he did trust her.

"_It's good to be selfish because there are things that we cannot ever hope to attain if we weren't."_

_"What things?"_

_She was smiling at him, she was always smiling. _

_But the smile on her face looked wrong then. So ill-fitting._

_He didn't see it back then, but now he realized what emotion it was._

_"Just things."_

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The loud slam of the door announces his presence, making Shintaro jump. He looks back to see Kuroha stand there, eyes wide, searching for monsters in the shadows. When they land on Shintaro, he starts to relax a little. That same smirk unfurls on his face the longer he stares, his eyes taking a predatory glint.

And before Shintaro could blink, he's right behind him.

A knife to his throat and hands that claw at his skin. Sharp teeth that draw blood and a horrifying feeling in the pit of his stomach.

When he can think again, past the disgusting feeling that's spreading through his body, he realizes that he's been pushed down. Hair brushes his face as Kuroha stares at him, mere inches away, staring at him with a strange expression.

He brushes his thumb across Shintaro's lips softly, so softly, feeling them trace the hushed "don't" that Shintaro voices.

He moves to ShIntaro's ear and bites down harshly and his hands resume roving under his shirt.

_Wish granted. _

A soft moan escapes him and he reddens on cue. Kuroha continues to bite and suck on his skin and his fingers tweak one of his nipples expertly. Shintaro's breathing is reduced to panicked, quick huffs as he desperately tries to hold his voice back and he tries to pull his legs together. One of Kuroha's hands moves back out and trails downward, feather-light touches on the area above Shintaro's crotch that makes the boy moan a little louder before he starts to pull the boy's pants down.

"No underwear? Are you that desperate for me, Shintaro?" Kuroha whispers close to his ear.  
"My fucking arm is broken and it's less of a hassle." Shintaro grumbles, flinching a little as Kuroha starts to suck on his earlobe. Aahhh, shit, he was really sensitive there...

"Mm..."

"You're enjoying this? You're getting so wet down here, Shintaro..."

"Whatever...gave you that...i...idea..." Shintaro panted out, biting his lip when those words came out in a stressed whine. His barriers were being broken down fast, too fast. It had been a week since Kuroha had left him, after all. "You've been waiting all this time for me, haven't you? You're so eager for me, you want me to take you so badly."  
"F-fuck...oh god..."

Shintaro's words are slowly turning into pleas, his body shivers and shakes under Kuroha's touch, his eyes squeezed shut and bile rising in his throat as the horrifying realization that he's been tamed, being played with by this monster starts to rise from the back of his mind.

_Don't think._

Kuroha grinds his hips against Shintaro's and the boy almost screams.

His clothes are warm and wet when Shintaro's hands pull at them, urging Kuroha to take them off. If they were off, it would be easier to avoid that smell of copper, of gunpowder, of death. But he can still see it in those bright, yellow eyes.

His shirt hits the floor and his wrist is trapped in vice-like fingers, pressed over his head with an ease that comes with practice. Teeth and lips taste his skin and despite himself, he shivers and presses against him. His head is thrown back and he's about to bite straight through his lip.

"Oh? Why don't I hear anything?" Kuroha's eyes are unbearably sharp, focused when he looks back at him, mouth twisting into a tight frown, "Let me hear your reactions."

An order, not a request. It never was.

Shintaro worries his lip with a final bite before he lets it go. He shuts his eyes as if to block out the disgusting sounds, the heavy breaths that mingle in the air between them, the cold hands creeping on his body.

Or the sounds from his own lips. Sounds that make him feel every bit as violated as the act itself.

"Good boy."

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_"I never had a reason to lie to you because you never had a reason to trust me, Shintaro!"_

He knows that.

He still feels the shard that cuts through his heart when she shouts the words at him.

_"You never opened your heart to me! You never cared enough to even consider it!"_

He knows that.

_"You never cared enough for me!"_

That wasn't true. That wasn't true! He wasn't aware of it back then, but now he knows.

_Back then, I really did-!_

_"Don't...don't say it."_

This was a tone that he recognized. That tone that she used when she was tired. Tired of the ways that the world would use to torment her, be it a test, bad luck or anything bad that concerned her family.

_"Don't say anything that you'll regret, ok? I'm sorry. I'm sorry too. I'm just tired. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'll just..."_

The crunch of gravel under her feet and the soft sound of her breathing as she tried to calm down.

_"I'm just going to go home now."_

No...

No...no no no!

_"No...no don't go!"_

_"Shintaro?"_

_"Don't leave me! Don't leave me, Ayano! Please..."_

Please don't leave me! Not now, not now, not again...!

Not...again?

Not...

No...

_"But Shintaro...it's already too late for me."_

When he finally manages to look up, his eyes meet a blank expanse of skin. Where her face should be, her eyes, her nose, her lips...all of them seemed to have been wiped away.

_"It's been so long since I was alive."_

_"Long enough for you to forget what I looked like."_

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It was a bright, hot day. After noon. The kind of light that beat down harshly on his skin and made him feel like he was being cooked from the inside out.

The air conditioner was off in the living room. The air was humid.

And on this humid air was the smell of death. Stale and rank.

His stomach heaved, though he had nothing left to throw up, his head spun. The taste of bile on his tongue.

He hears him talk but he can't see him. He can't bring himself to look away. He just stares...stares...and stares.

At the glass eyes that hold his own, dark eyes like his own.

Momo had inherited their father's eyes. Just like him.

Those same eyes lay a few feet away from her, a trail of blood tracing a path to her body onto the stark white of the mattress underneath. The rest of her face, her body was not nearly as pristine, covered in cuts and slashes, her limbs askew. His mother's skin felt cold on his own, glassy eyes that stare up at him, a scream chiseled on her features, made permanent in her skin in the last moments of her death.

Her eyes were intact but her mouth was stitched together, black thread stretching painfully at her lips.

She couldn't ever talk again. Momo...Momo couldn't ever talk again.

They could never talk to him again.

They would...ne...ver...

"Why are you surprised? You should have expected this."

Someone was talking to him. Who?

"You did expect this deep down, didn't you?"

This voice wasn't them. Not his sister, not his mother. It spoke close to his ear on a breath as cold as ice, a crooning voice that's cut through his heart and paralyzes his limbs. A voice that could kill him easily as the knife at his throat, as easily as he'd...he'd killed...

"There was no way they could have been saved, Shintaro." He sounds genuinely sympathetic but he could almost hear the smirk in his words, "Not when I've been here for so long. Wouldn't have gone undetected, even if you haven't left your room for long enough that shutting yourself away for a week is completely normal. They had to die."

Die.

Death. Death.

His mother and his sister were...were...!

"They..."

"Are dead. So there are no more attachments left for you to this life, are there?" Something is pressed into his hands, long fingers folding his own into a fist.

A pair of scissors.

"Your friends and family are all gone. There's nothing left for you here, in this life." Kuroha continues, relentless, his every word sinking past his flesh and bones, digging as deep as the bullets of a machine gun.

"So why don't you end it already?"

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"Why won't you kill me?"

The question comes out of literal nowhere. It makes Kuroha actually look up at him, stare at him incredulously. Shintaro is in disbelief as well but presses on. It's pointless to pretend that he hadn't said anything. "You seem more than happy to end other people's lives."

"You wound me, Shintaro. What makes you think that I would go on a senseless killing spree at the drop of a hat?" Shintaro gives him a disbelieving look at that and Kuroha continues, "I could have just as easily killed your family out of a personal vendetta. Or I could have just snapped and your family could have just died for no reason at all."  
"They didn't just die, you fucking murdered them." Shintaro says coldly, "And I watch the news every night. I'm not as stupid as you make me out to be."

"I never said you were." Kuroha looks mildly amused, "What brought this on?"

"You've kept me alive for two years. Wouldn't you have grown tired of me by now?"

"You would think so, wouldn't you."

The chair grates against the floor when Kuroha gets up. Shintaro grits his teeth and swallows the reflex to move back as he comes closer.

He needed to grow a spine and stand his fucking ground already.

"There isn't nothing remotely interesting about you, save for your intellect. And even with that, you can be so horribly dense sometimes." Kuroha sighs, like he's disappointed in Shintaro, "Like right now. Didn't I already offer you a chance to die once before? You were the one who refused."  
"Like I would say yes!"

"Most people have, Shintaro." Kuroha tutted, "And of course, your mother and sister were among them."

When Shintaro falls silent, Kuroha looks his way and the smirk on his face grows when he sees how pale that the boy had gone.

"It's understandable, isn't it? They'd seen far more disturbing things than you watching them die." Kuroha says, "Weren't they the ones who walked in the room?"

Shintaro grits his teeth. He shouldn't show any reaction. He shouldn't give Kuroha the satisfaction.

Kuroha reaches for him and he pulls back before he stops himself.

He knows he's failed when he sees that _goddamned _smirk.

"Watched you call my name in a drug-induced stupor, watched as I fucked you into the mattress? Watched you scream your pleas as I started to cut into your skin, watched as your cries turned breathless moans that begged for more, to be _violated_ more, for me to fuck you harder into the mattress, beg for me to cut into you again?"

"Why are you so proud of that? That's the only way you'll ever get me to call your name after all."

Like this, there's two outcomes to this situations.

And he's seen enough of the signs to know what was coming.

That doesn't stop him from gasping when his back hits the floor, when Kuroha twists his arm painfully.

"Really? That's not the way I remember it, Shin~ta~ro."

He grits his teeth as Kuroha's hands predictably move downward and palm his crotch, "I'm not the one who got hard when he was being fucked against the wall while his sister's blood was being forced down his throat."

Shintaro himself knows how much he's wasted away in this flat, barely eating or sleeping. But against such a superhuman grip, the powerlessness of it all sends chills up his spine.

He's weak.

He's sick.

"I wasn't the one with his tongue down a killer's throat, thrilling at the taste of it."

"Like hell I was...! G-get off me! Get _off_!"

"If you want to die so much, then why haven't you?" And the body underneath goes still as Kuroha continues to question him, "Why are you still alive?"

Kuroha's hands are cold. His words too are like ice water on Shintaro's lungs, his heart.

_What am I even doing?_

Even if he wanted to answer, how could he answer? When he doesn't know the answer himself...?

Kuroha smirks as the silence stretches on, before letting him go. Pulling away.

"And you call _me _selfish."_  
_

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_"You were selfish."  
_

_I know that already._

_"It's because you're selfish that you're here right now. It's because you were selfish that you gave up your chance to die. That you're still alive. And even now...even now, you have the chance to end your life at any point of time."_

But he was still alive.

_"Even now you are scared of what death would bring."_

It wouldn't be as terrifying as the dreams that plague his mind.

It wouldn't be as painful as the bruises that plague his body.

But his hand trembles on the knife handle, on the small pills that would allow him a chance to escape this hell.

_"...You were selfish enough to live. Who are you living for? What did you see?"_

_What?_

Slender fingers on his face, but he's long forgotten her temperature. Or he's never felt it at all.

_"Why don't you want to remember?"_

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It's one of those rare days where he wakes and he sees yellow eyes stare back at him.

He can't speak because his throat is dry and his heart is straining against his ribs. Hands squeeze against his throat.

"Ku...roha?" His voice is faint. Strained.

Kuroha leans in and bites Shintaro's lower lip, one of his hands moving underneath the boy's shirt. Shintaro's breathing gradually picks up the pace as the kisses increase in tempo, as his touches grow more heated.

"Kuroha, wait. Wait, what are you-"

"Stop bitching already. It's too fucking late for that."

"Yeah it is, so why are you...mmmn."

He cuts Shintaro off with a kiss. And Shintaro's heart stops for the longest time.

Fingers gripping his hips hard enough to bruise and start to slip under the hem of his jeans.

But the kiss is still slow, still so sweet and his body leans in to the touch.

"Kuroha...! N-no, don't!"

"Shhh."

Even his words seem to slur. Until it's something that sounds...Shintaro's hands are shaking badly when he grips Kuroha's shirt.

He hears the sound of his breathing from far away, short and sharp like daggers cutting through the tense silence. He shivers when fingers trace the paper-thin scars on his arms, on his sides.  
And that asshole is still so _silent; _he hasn't uttered a word all this time. It was unnerving.

"Kuroha, seriously just-" His words are shaky and he's barely just managed to stutter the other man's name out before the rest of his sentence is caught up in empty air and his head falls back against the pillow.  
His body had grown far more accustomed to Kuroha's touch than he was willing to admit.

"St...ahhn."

He think that he sees Kuroha smirk at him.

His hands settle on those places that Shintaro's come to hate. Teeth find the skin between his neck before lips move back up to kiss him again. And again. And again.  
His shirt is rolled up before he could protest. Or even find any meaning in trying to.

His breath is caught in his throat and heat flood his cheeks. Cold air sends shocks on his skin, thrilled again when Kuroha touches him. He tastes copper from the lip that he's chewing, trying to hold back.

"St...op..."

The touches are the same, save for one thing.

_It's disgusting. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting._

_I'm disgusting._

He's disgusting for thinking that this actually feels good.

Fingers yanking painfully in his hair, tracing the scars in his scalp, the back of his neck and it's still so _wrong,_ because he's still so..._  
_

"Why...are you so gentle? With me..."

Again, there's no reply.

His lips are bruised and there's the taste of copper on his tongue. Hot, heavy breath that fill his lungs and cloud his brain as Kuroha continues to _kiss _down his neck, his usual roughness toned down to something Shintaro could almost convince himself was tenderness.

It had been an eternity ago when he'd been held like this...hadn't it?

No...he'd never been held like this in his entire life.

And like the fucking idiot that he was, his body _craved _this attention. After all this time, being held like this for the first time, after weeks of being abused and raped and broken over and over and _over _again by the same fucking person right on top of him-

"You've told me yourself."

"W...hat?"

"The reason you're living." And now he sees it, that same familiar crooked grin that he's come to know, that sends dread through his veins, damping out some of that filthy fire, "You've told me."

Shintaro's hands clutch at his shirt, desperate to find some sort of purchase to ground him even as Kuroha's hands finally go back down and touch him. Softly, not at all rough and in tempo with his touches, Kuroha's head moves towards his chest and he tastes the sweat and grime of Shintaro's skin. Tracing rope marks and bite marks and slender cuts made with knives and sharp teeth.

Shintaro's breathing loses tempo and he punctuates the tense silence will small moans. He tries to draw his knees together and groans when Kuroha forces his legs apart, nudging his erection with his knee.  
"You've already shown me your shameful side, hadn't you?"

Shintaro looks back up to see an unreadable expression in that glaring yellow.

He breaks eye contact when he feels fingers prod at his entrance and he stiffens, waiting for the inevitable pain.

Kuroha increases the tempo of his fingers, smirking even more when he feels Shintaro buck into his hands almost helplessly. Feels Shintaro's spine arch as his body craves more of the contact, feels shaky hands move to the back of his neck and tangle in his hair.  
He feels that tongue taste the blood on his own and the pleased sound that Kuroha makes when he tastes it. Hears Shintaro's weak gasp when he finally enters him, dry and painful, enough to kill some of his arousal.

Kuroha moves up to his ear and kisses the lobe, whispering dirty, filthy words into it and traces the shivers that rack Shintaro's spine when the boy hears them, registers them.

Feels his skin warm against his.

His toes curl as Kuroha inserts another finger, still as 'gentle' as ever. And he has to force himself to think, to breathe through the pain.

The latter is easier to do.

His body remembers the protocol and he forces his mind to shut itself off.

His legs strain against the pain and discomfort of being held up, he tries to ignore the stabbing uncomfortable pain of being entered. He does when Kuroha angles his fingers and pushes against him just _so, _until he sees white, until his throat burns from the screams.

He clenches down on Kuroha's fingers, his worries about dignity and self-worth thrown aside when he's come to terms with that fact that he's coated in his own semen.

That this shoddy, horrible play of interactions was his reality.

He throws a hand over his eyes in a vain attempt to block him out.

He gives up when his breath is stolen from his body in yet another harsh, bruising kiss.

At the same time, Kuroha pushes in, enters him.

Screams and scratches on a mattress. Tears clouding his vision and air forced out of his lungs. A heartbeat drumming through his head, his ears, until he can't hear anything else.  
The cool feel of Kuroha's bare skin against his own. So alien.

Kuroha starts to move and the world finally ceases to be.

Pain and pleasure tear at his mind. A hundred different directions at once. Skin against skin, that obscene sound of flesh on flesh.

Tongues tracing dips and curves, sweat on his own.

The pain of scratches and bites and cuts had long ago dulled. With every wound inflicted, a spark is added to that disgusting fire. It taints his blood, his lungs and spreads to his face, infecting the air between them.

A mess of tangled bodies with a sinful fullness which leaves him oddly content, oddly thrilled.

And above his head, he hears a whisper fall from those lips. Those lips that he learnt were chapped and tasted of blood and smoke.

It takes him a while to understand. At first he thinks it's too soft for him to understand.

But then he realizes he already has.

It's something that he knows deep down after all.

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"I'm home."

There's no reply. All he can see in this darkness is the flicker of the TV.

And a figure illuminated as he stood in front of it.

"You didn't put the knife away."

In the flickering of static, he can see his dark eyes. Alight with a fire that he hadn't seen for two years.

He smirks in spite of himself.

"So you've decided to fight after all."

When the silence falls again, he hears the words Shintaro was murmuring. His smirk grows even more.

"How hurtful. Calling me a monster...why would you do that, Shintaro?"

"You are one."

The words would be strong if his voice wasn't so quavery. So pathetic.

"You took away...everyone I loved away from me. My family, my friends...everyone!" Shintaro's teeth are gritted, he looks almost ferocious now. In the way a weak, broken little boy like him can possibly be, "You're a monster! A monster, you..."

"And why are you saying this only now? Why didn't you try to fight me off back then?"_  
_

"That same fucking argument..." Shintaro hissed, "I'm fighting you now, aren't I?"

Slivers of red cover his forearm. An obvious view.

"You're serious."

"What did you do with him?"

"Hmm? With whom?"

He takes a deep breath and the hand holding the knife has stopped shaking.

"What did you do with Haruka?"

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_And above his head, he hears a whisper fall from those lips. Those lips that he learnt were chapped and tasted of blood and smoke._

_It takes him a while to understand. At first he thinks it's too soft for him to understand._

_But then he realizes he already has._

_It's something that he knows deep down after all._

_And a voice that he hadn't known he forgot._

**_"I always loved you, you know."_**

**_"I love you...I love you still but..."_**

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**"Why did you forget me?"**

Shintaro flinches at that, but holds his ground. "That's his voice. How did you..."

"You've already figured it out haven't you?"

"I have. But all of those possibilities don't make any sense." His unsteady words come to a halt as he considers something. He stares at him with a new light in his eyes, "You...Konoha. You look like Konoha."

"Hmm? I look like whom now?"

"I can't believe...how did I not see this earlier? You...you have dark hair, but you look _exactly _like him. Why didn't I recognize you?!" He takes a step forward and Kuroha doesn't move. Doesn't move, doesn't twitch a finger, just remains perfectly still.

"What did you do with Haruka?!"

"Haruka? Now who would that be?"

"You know who I'm talking about! Why...what did you do with him?! Is he still alive?! Where is he?"

"How should I know?"

"Kuroha, don't fuck around with me! Just tell me where he is!"

"Even if I knew where he was, why should I tell you? A lot can happen in two years, Shintaro." It's far more satisfying than he would have imagined this scenario would be. The boy's face grow pale as he comes to the dreaded conclusion before Kuroha even voices it.  
Such a bright child.

"He could even be dead by this point."

"H-he...was sick, but he was getting better. He still could have survived!"

"Would he have had the will to live when all his friends have died?"

Shintaro sucks in a breath, an expression of hurt flitting over his face. But his eyes narrow at him. "You do know about Haruka. You...know enough about him to know I was friends with him."

"I do remember seeing a boy in a certain hospiital, yes."

The clatter of a knife and he's pushed against a wall.

"Where is he?! Where is Haruka?"

"Would you really be happier knowing?"

"I'd at least know what happened to him!"

"Hmm. Did you really care for him that much?"

This question, of all of them, had him faltering. Predictable.

"Oh?"

"I did."

He was always truthful during those times. He was either a spineless coward or a cruel tragic hero, but during these times he had always stared him down.

"Did you now."

"But why would you care? You've killed him anyways, right?"

All of his masks would slip and he would stare at him with a desolate expression. He would struggle and spit, but he would face death head-on.

"And if I said no?"

"Don't fuck with me like this. I know he's dead, Kuroha."

"If you say so. You're the genius after all."

He stares at him even as the cold metal of the gun presses against his chest. Cold hands come up and grip his own. "Just kill me already."

"And why should I obey _your _demands?"

"You're tired of me already, aren't you?"

And Kuroha leans in and brushes his lips against his. When he pulls away, Shintaro doesn't look surprised.

He just looks sad.

"Yes I am."

He pulls the trigger as he hears Shintaro's whisper.

**"I never loved you."**

The gunshot is loud in the silence, unbearably loud.

The light in his eyes goes out almost immediately.

And as he falls to the floor, the cogs of reality finally collapse, having been stopped long ago.

"About time, your Highness." He brushes the blood off his shirt and wipes his mouth.

"Though with everything that's been said, I prefer the other loops better."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

**Songs used for writing this:**

**Everything by Panic!At the Disco**

**I write sins not tragedies  
Nicotine  
Build God, Then We'll Talk**

**How oddly fitting.**


End file.
